


From the Desk of the Warden-Commander

by sheepsleet



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Cousland is like Amarantine's mom of the year, Grey Wardens are like a bunch of stray cats or hyperactive children, Loghain is a surprisingly good friend to have, Nathaniel does not take well to herding cats, Ser Pounce-A-Lot is a mommy!, because Loghain, her relationship with Alistair is in SHAMBLES, i just realized i had a thing for epistolary works, privacy? no such thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepsleet/pseuds/sheepsleet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elissa Cousland thought being Warden-Commander and in charge of the Amaranthine arling would be a job full of glory and respect. It is, she finds, more akin to being a haggard mother trying to wrangle her group of unruly children to do things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Desk of the Warden-Commander

**Author's Note:**

> So I couldn't be assed to figure out a timeline, but this was something I wrote just for the hell of it a few nights ago. Just as a warning. It's un-beta'd (unless you count me shoving this at a friend of mine and her reading it and just saying, "Your Cousland is not like my Cousland"), so there's that.

So as a Grey Warden, I feel compelled to testify that Loghain Mac Tir is a monster. He sacrificed countless troops at Ostagar, abandoned the king on the battlefield, became regent of Ferelden, sent an Antivan Crow on my ass, allowed Tevinter slavers to take up their trade in the Denerim alienage, and countless other misdeeds and wrongdoings. However, as a loyal Ferelden to my core, I must admit that being able to interact with him is generally the same sort of giddy affair I’d always imagined it to be. Have I ever mentioned my awful schoolgirl crush and hero worship of the man? Because by Andraste, he ages like a damn fine wine.

The death of my family was on Arl Howe’s hands. I mean, sure, Loghain might have had an inkling of what was going on in that diseased rat’s mind. He _might_ have. He, himself, said that he wanted a united Ferelden. My father was powerful and loyal. Loghain would have been a fool to fully endorse such a plan. And there is no way that the great Hero of River Dane can, in any way, be called a fool.

Maker’s breath, if Fergus were to hear me say something like that (much less read this), his teasing would never stop. “Elissa, still nursing that crush on Loghain from when you were eight?” “Elissa, how’s having Loghain _serve_ under you?” Brothers are, no doubt, the worst (when we aren’t counting darkspawn. If we do count them, broodmothers are the worst).

That being said, I do feel awful about how the Blight turned out. Alistair

Alistair must be so angry at me. I was able to get my revenge on Arl Howe. And Duncan was the closest thing Alistair had left for a father. I should have let him have closure, take revenge…

I love him. Alistair. He was there for me. We were there for each other.

I can’t bear to write any more. Perhaps when I am in a more maudlin mood.

  
  


Loghain came to visit Amaranthine.

I truly do wish it had been at a different time. I’d finally started to get a sort of breakthrough with Nathaniel, but one look at the former Hero of River Dane and my efforts went in the proverbial chamberpot. Bad memories, I assume; being faced with both his father’s murderer and his conspirator.

Loghain’s face...well, it certain didn’t help that Oghren belched condescendingly at him. I’m not sure how he managed that, but Oghren has expressive bodily expulsions. Loghain’s face was all disgust mixed with guilt. Oghren is a bad mix with just about anything not dealing with killing things.

My wardens are falling apart regardless of what I do. Alistair leaving really should have been the sign that I should get out as soon as I can. At least then I wouldn’t need to deal with all of this.

Andraste give me strength.

I wish Mother Mallol was here. She always need how to make me feel better, how to pray to ease my worries. I had mentioned it once to Alistair and he

he

Maker’s breath, I have never fucked up so badly.

Alistair would clasp my hands in his, tilt his head towards mine, and Chant. He would Chant and pray and Maker, please watch over and guide him. He was the best thing to come of the Blight and I drove him away. If you do nothing else for me for as long as I live, please ensure his safety. So let it be.

  
  


Loghain is still hanging around. I think he’s unofficially stationed here. I don’t mind and the rest seem to be warming up to him in varying degrees, but I really do want to know if I could have him traveling around with me and the others. Nothing gets Weisshaupt pissier than their specially assigned wardens following around the Warden Commander like a duckling after its mother when they’ve been ordered to stay put.

Leliana sent a letter recently. Orlais remains as beautiful as ever and there’s a drunkard making his way through the seediest taverns of Val Royeaux, claiming a princely heritage and a love of fine cheeses. Oh, Alistair. Would that I could repent for the pain I’ve caused you.

The Maker must be watching over him. A drunk Alistair is an extremely easy target for any assassins Anora might send his way. If only he could just come home.

  
  


Sigrun knocked Loghain out, stripped him, tied him up, and left him bound and gagged on my bed. I never should have let her read the Vigil’s surprisingly large library of smut novellas. I will also murder her.

The first thing Loghain told me was how atrocious my private room’s security was. He obviously hasn’t realized that nothing is safe from Sigrun or Nathaniel. He also probably doesn’t realize that Sigrun enjoys being caught in her snooping and doesn’t clean up after herself. Any locks she jimmied open remain open and all doors may as well be left open anyway. Nathaniel is much more subtle. He probably snuck around his foster family. Rogues will be rogues and all that.

Zevran sent a letter. he’s back in Antiva, slowly disassembling the Crows one assassin at a time. He sends good tidings, his affections, and a bracelet he looted from a corpse because it reminded him of me.

  
  


Leliana sent a letter containing an inked nug print and a “translation” saying that Schmooples missed me. That woman.

Nathaniel tripped going down stairs. What kind of rogue is he? **A better one than you, Commander.**

  
  


Nathaniel is harsh. He can’t even give me the semblance of privacy. Honestly, no respect from any of my wardens. Any of them. They are all godless heathens.

  
  


Zevran sent news of Alistair. Apparently he set some sort of fish chowder eating record. Considering the way Grey Wardens eat and Alistair’s own cooking, I am not surprised in the least. Alistair could probably eat poison and only be set back with mild indigestion.

I should probably send that to Zevran, actually. He, at least, appreciates my humor (looking right at you, Nathaniel).

  
  


Nathaniel waited until I finished giving orders to give a clearly forced and uncomfortably long laugh. Touché.

Loghain may have given that entirely too put-upon sigh that I’m sure Anora is extremely familiar with. Father never sighed like that; he would play along and make Mother wish for a more civilized family.

Between Oghren’s belching and farting, Nathaniel’s quiet snark, and Anders being Anders, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden effectively make me feel like an overworked mother. I won’t even get into the stress Sigrun and Velanna cause me.

  
  


I hate the deep roads.

  
  


Maker damned broodmothers.

  
  


Zevran sent back a response. Alistair is not a drunkard (did he get the same intel from Leliana?) and he loved my joke, not that Zevran said it was from me. Zevran also included lots of romantic descriptions about how Alistair stared into the distance and was clearly doing an internal monologue about how love was cruel. I’m fairly sure that everything Zevran spewed was bullshit, but I appreciate the thought regardless.

Assassins. Surprisingly good at making you feel better and much worse about actually killing you.

  
  


Apparently Zevran has taken to following Alistair around. He claims they are traveling together, but this is Zevran and that could actually mean he is tracking Alistair and ensuring he doesn’t get stabbed or poison himself with his cooking.

I’m honestly not sure if this behavior is an Antivan thing or a rogue thing. Oriana got pretty shifty sometimes about the way she worded things.

  
  


Oren would be twelve today. I need a drink.

  
  


Fergus remarried. When was this? Was the letter lost or did the seneschal find and intercept it? Or did Fergus forget?

  
  


She’s pretty enough, I suppose. She has nothing on Oriana’s beauty and snark. Just a dumb girl, barely touched by the Blight, come from Nevarra. Dark hair, dark eyes, thick accent, and thicker hips. Apparently she’s part of the Nevarran royal succession.

Leliana will know what to do.

  
  


As it turns out, Loghain knew what to do. He snagged an entire cask of some sort of mead, didn’t bitch about my room’s shitty defenses (for once), and announced that we were going to drink until something died or we passed out.

I ended up getting weepy all over his tunic. We drank, I cried, and we ended up passing out in a drunken mabari pile. Surprisingly enough, I felt much better about the whole ordeal the morning after.

Loghain is my favorite warden.

  
  


Zevran sent another letter mentioning his and Alistair’s travels. They seem to be following the Frostbacks.

Nathaniel, I know you read my journal out of boredom. You’re in charge. Do not let anyone know Alistair is getting this close to Ferelden. If the news breaks, I swear to you that I will appoint Anders as my second-in-command.

  
  


**Understood, Commander.**

****  
  


**Amaranthine smugglers remain dead. Soldiers patrol the roads and protect pilgrims and merchants. All is well.**

****  
  


**All is well.**

****  
  


**Had to separate Velanna and Loghain.**

****  
  


**Had to separate Velanna and Sigrun.**

****  
  


**Had to separate Velanna and Sigrun and Loghain.**

****  
  


**Ibid. Please return soon.**

****  
  


**Ibid.**

****  
  


**Velanna picked drunken fight with armor stand. Winner: inconclusive.**

****  
  


**Loghain sulking. Sigrun continues to antagonize him.**

****  
  


**Sigrun missing.**

****  
  


**Sigrun found. Was locked in pantry. Suspect Loghain.**

****  
  


**Ser Pounce-A-Lot discovered as female. Will deliver kittens. Anders ecstatic.**

****  
  


**Anders manic. Claims he doesn’t understand how to heal cats properly. Calls his attempts failures.**

****  
  


**Had to separate Anders and Loghain. Anders’ tongue down Loghain’s throat. I fear for Loghain’s retribution.**

****  
  


Well I see my absence wasn’t particularly noticed. I regret missing Loghain locking Sigrun in a pantry. I bet it was the awful one that stinks of overripe vegetables and moldy fruit.

My trip went well enough. I ended up killing a broodmother. I am not pleased in having met one in the first place.

I should send Fergus a congratulatory card.

I don’t want to die a blighted broodmother. There has to be a cure for the taint, if not the Calling itself.

  
  


Avernus sent a letter. Useless. I need a better intellectual source for all that he’s ages old already.

Sigrun surprisingly well-behaved. Ser Pounce-A-Lot is due any day now. Anders is in raptures at the thought of kitten fluff. Justice continually demands to be put on more darkspawn raids. Nathaniel looks longingly at all the ale Oghren has. Clearly leadership of the Wardens does not suit. Hostilities between Loghain and my idiots are at an all-time low.

Fergus sent news of his wife’s illness. He’s praying for it to be pregnancy, not actual illness.

I feel like I’m on a timer. How long until the taint overpowers me and makes me a ghoul? How long before the taint transforms me into a broodmother?

Maker, may your swi

  
  


Anders is screeching bloody murder. Pounce is in labor. Even _Fergus_ didn’t react this badly when Oriana’s water broke.

  
  


They’re gone. Anders and Justice. May their partnership be as complementary as Wynne and her spirit of faith.

I had a feeling Anders might cut and run. I just wish it wasn’t so soon.

  
  


Alistair was right. Everything he spat at me when we met. All correct. Zevran tried to calm him down, tried to soften the blow, but it doesn’t make Alistair’s words any less true. That I’m selfish. That he had just as much right to kill Loghain at the Landsmeet as I did in murdering Howe.

He said he hated me. That he never wanted to see me again. That if he saw another Grey Warden it would be too soon.

Zevran was totally bullshitting me in that one letter.

I wonder if he would have wished my Calling to come on faster if Zevran had not interfered at that moment.

I’d ended up making up Grey Warden business in the area. Going to the deep roads. Finding an unexpected broodmother and killing her. Zevran and Alistair tagged along. Supposedly this is the sort of thing they’d been doing. Seeking out darkspawn and killing them off slowly.

Maker, but the broodmother spat out hurlocks. She was originally a human woman, I could see that. She’d been beautiful, I’m sure. The thought that one day, I had that to look forward to...I can’t.

  
  


I can’t stay here. Not in Amaranthine. I sent messages, coded ones, to Leliana and Zevran. I would be going off grid. Don’t look for me.

I’ll find a cure for the Calling.

I can feel the taint beneath my skin, corrupting my flesh cell by cell. I don’t want to be a broodmother.

Maker, please don’t let me be a broodmother.

 

 


End file.
